


Cake and Connubiality

by Chantress



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alpha Fingolfin, Alpha Nerdanel, Cake, F/M, Finarfin/Cake OTP, Finwe's A+ Parenting, Finwë Is A Dick, Fëanor and Fingolfin Are Oblivious Nerds, Fëanor they're lesbians, Idiots in Love, Mpreg, Nerdanel puts up with A Lot, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Fëanor, Omega Verse, Weddings, pre-incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21889315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chantress/pseuds/Chantress
Summary: After his wedding to Nerdanel, Fëanor spends time with his younger brothers. There is cake, and perhaps the seed of something more...
Relationships: Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	Cake and Connubiality

**Author's Note:**

> This story used to be part of a series. Now it isn't. So it goes. :)

As weddings went, Fëanor thought as he and Nerdanel accepted the well-wishes of their guests at the feast afterwards, this one hadn't been too bad. As the eldest son of the High King, he'd had to attend any number of weddings over the years, and found them all terribly dull affairs, with far too much emphasis on duty and piety, and next to no mention of love between the ones getting married. That perhaps wasn't so surprising, though, given that most matches in Valinor were arranged by the couple's families.  
  
As though sensing his thoughts, Nerdanel squeezed his hand, offering Fëanor a radiant smile. Fëanor smiled back, reaching up to adjust the crown of flowers on her head--one of the matching set he'd made for them from jewels and precious metals, so cleverly wrought it looked as though the blossoms could have been plucked from a meadow only minutes before.  
  
The ceremony had been a simple one, held in the spacious yard behind Mahtan and RAWR's home. Fëanor had been enthralled by Mahtan's descriptions of the Alpha and Omega bonding traditions that had been practiced in Endor, but, after Nerdanel had pointedly brought up the ongoing tension between him and Finwë, as well as the need for discretion in general, he'd agreed to a less blatant nod to the old ways. He and Nerdanel had both worn white, with the flower crowns on their heads, and made their vows in the name of "the Creator of All" rather than Manwë and Varda. "After all," Nerdanel had said with a sly smile, "who's to say that we _don't_ mean Eru?"  
  
The references they'd worked in were subtle, but all the more meaningful (and wickedly amusing) for it. Especially since Fëanor had refused Finwë's pointed recommendations for a tailor who could "disguise that little problem" for him, and worn clothing that did nothing to hide the growing swell of his belly.  
  
He laid a hand over it now, his heart clenching with fierce joy as he felt the small flutters of the babe moving within him. This had only started within the last week or so, and the sensation still made him teary-eyed with wonder.  
  
A woman who Fëanor recognized as a colleague of Mahtan's--an Alpha, judging by her height and scent--looked over from where she had been conversing with Nerdanel, smiling fondly at Fëanor's unconscious gesture.  
  
"Blessings upon your union," she said, "and upon its fruit." Her voice lowered conspiratorially. "It's wonderful luck, you know."  
  
"What is?" Fëanor asked, intrigued.  
  
"Holding a bonding when the Omega's already with child," she said. "It foretells fertility and good fortune not only for you, but all those in attendance." Her grey eyes sparkled with wicked humor. "In fact, in the old days, it wasn't uncommon for the guests at a bonding to pick up a new mate or two of their own at the feast--or at least go home with more in their bellies than just good food!"  
  
Fëanor could feel his cheeks flushing at the implication. Nerdanel just rolled her eyes.  
  
"You've had far too much wine, Auntie," she said, her voice filled with an exasperated affection that Fëanor had heard directed at himself many times.  
  
"Maybe you're right," the Alpha said. "I should probably save some for the King. Poor man--he looks like someone shoved nettles into his underthings and then made him march a hundred leagues afterwards!"  
  
Fëanor glanced over at where Finwë was sitting further down the table, between Indis and RAWR; his father did indeed look uncomfortable, nursing a cup of wine and trying to lean as far away from RAWR as possible without making it obvious that that's what he was doing.  
  
"I'd feel more sorry for him if he hadn't--" Nerdanel broke off with a glower, and Fëanor squeezed her hand in understanding; Finwë's treatment of him was still a sore point with her.  
  
A tug at his sleeve interrupted whatever reply he would have made, and Fëanor turned to see his youngest sibling standing next to his seat, staring up at him with wide eyes.  
  
"Arafinwë!" Fëanor said. "What are you doing over here? Where's your mother?"  
  
"Cake!" Finarfin said cheerfully, and pointed a small hand towards the beautifully decorated confection waiting on the buffet table.  
  
Fëanor grinned despite himself. "All right," he said, taking his little brother's hand and letting himself be pulled along. "Cake it is."  
  
Fëanor ended up cutting generous slices for himself and Nerdanel as well as Finarfin, grateful all over again that the nausea of the first months of his pregnancy had finally passed. Indis, in a surprising display of graciousness, had made and decorated the cake herself, even remembering that lemon was his favorite flavor; it would have been a shame if he'd been forced to miss out on it due to his stomach rebelling.  
  
Some minutes later, Fingolfin came over, frowning at his little brother, who was perched on Fëanor's knee, being fed bites of cake by both Fëanor and Nerdanel.  
  
"Arafinwë, what do you have to say for yourself?" Fingolfin scolded. "You know you're not supposed to wander off on your own."  
  
"Cake," Finarfin said contentedly, cramming another handful into his mouth.  
  
"Hello, Nolofinwë," Fëanor said. "He's not on his own, as you can see. I doubt even Father would object to him spending time with his older brother on his wedding day."  
  
"We both know that's not true," Fingolfin said, voice low. His lips compressed into a tight line. "He's been saying the most awful things about you, ever since he found out about..." He glanced at Fëanor's belly, then away, cheeks coloring.  
  
"I'm sure he has," Fëanor said. He thought he should have felt rage at this latest revelation, but all he could feel was a sort of cold weariness.  
  
"I don't care, though!" Fingolfin said passionately. "You're still my brother, and I... I've missed you."  
  
Fëanor thought perhaps Fingolfin had meant to say something else instead, but didn't press the matter. He smiled at his brother. "I've missed you too, Nolo."  
  
Fingolfin blushed even harder. "I, uh, that's... that's good."  
  
"You should come and visit after the baby's born," Fëanor said. He didn't know where that impulsive offer had come from, but it felt _right_ somehow. He glanced over at Nerdanel to make sure this was all right with her; she nodded, a small, amused smile on her lips.  
  
"Yes, Nolo," Nerdanel said, "we'd love to have you. It would be nice to get to know my new brother-in-law better, and I know Fëanor will want to spend as much time with you as he can."  
  
It didn't seem possible, but Fingolfin went even redder. "I'll, ah, ask my parents, then. Come on, Arafinwë," he added briskly. "We should get you back to Mother."  
  
"_Caaaaake_," Finarfin wailed as Fingolfin pulled him out of Fëanor's lap.  
  
"Nolo, wait," Fëanor called as Fingolfin started back towards the other end of the banquet table, towing a still complaining Finarfin in his wake.  
  
Fingolfin halted and turned, raising one black eyebrow. "Yes?"  
  
"I, ah..." Fëanor wasn't sure what he'd intended to say; all he knew was that he couldn't bear to let Fingolfin walk away quite yet. "The baby's kicking," he said finally. "Would you like to feel?" The baby wasn't large enough yet for anyone besides him to feel the little kicks and squirms, but he couldn't think of anything else to make his brother linger a while longer.  
  
Fingolfin blinked. "Yes," he said slowly. "Yes, I think I would."  
  
Fëanor _didn't_ jump when he felt Fingolfin's palm settle on his belly, but it was a near thing. A spark of warmth seemed to leap between the two of them, soothing and unsettling all at once; Fëanor wasn't sure if he wanted his brother to take his hand away at once, or keep it there forever.  
  
"Can you feel it?" Fëanor asked. His voice sounded a little deeper than usual, strangely breathless.  
  
"I can," Fingolfin murmured, his star-blue eyes soft and wondering as he looked into Fëanor's, and Fëanor knew he wasn't talking about the baby any more than Fëanor himself had been.  
  
"_Nolofinwë_."  
  
Their father's voice snapped the fragile moment in two. Fingolfin snatched his hand away from Fëanor as though he'd been burned.  
  
"Bring Arafinwë," Finwë continued with a sour glance at Fëanor. "We're leaving. _Now_."  
  
"Already?" Fingolfin protested. "But we haven't even had cake yet!"  
  
"I think your little brother has had more than enough cake for all of us." Finwë gave Finarfin's icing-smeared face a pointed look. "Come along now; you don't want to keep Ingwë waiting."  
  
"Of course not, Father," Fingolfin said in his most formal voice. Fëanor could see the way his jaw clenched, though. "Come on, Ara," he said in a more cheerful tone, "we're going to go on an adventure."  
  
"Cake?" Finarfin said hopefully.  
  
"No, there won't be cake," Finwë gritted out. "There'll be no more cake for a very long time."  
  
Fingolfin trailed after Finwë, glancing back once at Fëanor as his parents herded him and his siblings away. Fëanor raised a hand to wave; Fingolfin waved back, then he was gone.  
  
"He'll be all right," Nerdanel said softly, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing his cheek.  
  
"No, he won't," Fëanor said. There was a hot ball of rage inside him, spreading like a wildfire to fill every available space in his body. "Father's selling him off like... like _cattle_, just to keep Ingwë pacified! And I'm sure Anairë will just think it's the perfect coup to be wedded to a man of our House who isn't a filthy Omega degenerate," he added bitterly.  
  
"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Nerdanel said with a cryptic little smile. "You have seen her and Eärwen together, haven't you?"  
  
"Well, yes, of course," Fëanor said, not sure what she was getting at. "They've been best friends ever since they were girls."  
  
"Best friends...!" Nerdanel let out a huff of laughter. "Yes, that's certainly one way to put it."  
  
"Nel...?"  
  
Nerdanel gave him a fond smile and patted his head. "Fëanor, they're lesbians."

**Author's Note:**

> 


End file.
